


Rapha in Gath

by ADeedWithoutaName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feeding, M/M, Mpreg, Stuffing, Weight Gain, dubcon, fat!Dean, feederism, horror themes, monster!angel!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeedWithoutaName/pseuds/ADeedWithoutaName
Summary: Castiel is courting Dean, and has very serious intentions.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester (implied)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 108





	Rapha in Gath

Bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Apple pie. Pizza. Chocolate chip cookies. Chinese takeout. Pumpkin spice cake. Burgers. Cupcakes. Enough candy to send an entire first-grade class into a diabetic coma. Pumpkin pie. And Halloween night at Dean's favorite bar.

Needless to say, his belly was real happy by the time full evening rolled around on the 31st.

Dean and Castiel had shown up early, before the place could get packed, and snagged a table. Dean would've preferred a booth, comfier and definitely more private. It wasn't like he was too big for one. It was just he'd waddled in already pretty well-fed tonight and expecting to need room to grow, so it had seemed like a good bet. Even if the stool was definitely not very accommodating when it came to his ass.

Dean had nachos and hot wings spread out in front of him, fried pickles, mozzarella sticks, super fries. Bottle after bottle of a local Lebanon microbrew he'd been grudgingly forced to admit was not terrible. He couldn't even remember what round he was on, of the food or the beer. No use checking his watch to see how long they'd been here either, because he hadn't been paying attention when they walked in.

He let Castiel keep track of things like that, same as he did Sam when he was with him. Perks of having somebody else around.

The bar was loud and packed, "Monster Mash" thumping from the speakers for what Dean could have sworn was the eightieth goddamn time that night, girls standing around as slutty cats and witches, guys in Michael Meyers and Freddie Krueger masks. There were a few people who'd gone above and beyond the call of duty as far as costumes went, one or two movie-accurate Pennywises and Groots wandering past under the cheap bats and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, but it was a bar one cut above a dive in a little two-horse town in the middle of Kansas. Not a lot of people out there willing to spend that much effort.

Dean hadn't bothered with a costume, like about a third of the people around them, and had just rolled his eyes when Sam dryly suggested a pig snout before he and Castiel left. Castiel, on the other hand, had chosen to manifest his wings, seeing as it was pretty much the single night out of the year he could do that in public. Dean knew he usually didn't enjoy it. Made him vulnerable and all. But Dean was really liking staring across the table at those massive wings himself, arching up above Castiel's head and nearly brushing the floor under his stool, black feathers etched out in the bar's gloom by the electric-blue iridescence around each one's edge.

There had been a steady stream of admirers to their table, of course. Totally blown away. A lot had asked if they could touch, Castiel had turned them down, explaining the wings were fragile. It made Dean smug, knowing he was the only one who got to put hands anywhere near those feathers.

Dean belched, popping a cheese-loaded nacho into his mouth and following it up with a swig of beer. He didn't bother trying to cover his mouth. Sam wasn't around to be offended, and it was loud in here.

Contentedly, he rubbed at his gut. As per usual, there wasn't any pain, and not even all that much discomfort, either. He knew from experience he could be taut down there, shiny red as a candy apple, belly button popped and everything, and it still wouldn't bother him hardly at all. That had been a fun thing to figure out. He'd always known he was an eater, but never even guessed how good he could actually be at it.

His stomach seemed like it was stretching especially well today. Like it knew it was a holiday or something.

"Has it been a good Halloween so far, Dean?" Castiel asked, leaning forward so Dean could hear him.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but wound up burping again instead. Pretty loud too, judging from the fact a few people glanced in his direction. He offered a little wave, turned to Castiel with a smirk.

"Hey, good thing Sammy decided to stay in tonight, huh?" he asked, winking. Castiel smiled. "It's been awesome, Cas. You sure know how to feed a guy but, obviously…"

Dean leaned back on his stool. It creaked under him, and his gut brushed the lip of the table. He put his hands on the bloated belly spilling out of his shirt and the jeans that were getting less comfortable by the day, resting heavy and warm on his thick thighs even as it forced them apart. Dean gave it a few pats.

"We knew that already," he told Castiel.

"I guess we did," Castiel agreed with a laugh. "Oh." He noticed the empties spread around the table, baskets and bottles both. Leaning out of his seat, he waved over a waitress in bunny ears. "Hello. Could we get refills on…" He glanced at Dean, eyebrow raised, and Dean shrugged. "Everything?"

"Sure thing," she told him with a smile, then nodded to his wings. "Just _love_ these, by the way."

There was a pom-pom tail clipped to the back of her pants, Dean saw as she walked away, bouncing perkily with every step. He hardly noticed, though. Castiel was leaning in again, the bar's special Halloween lighting catching in soft eyes so they glowed.

"I love watching you enjoy yourself so much," Castiel said fondly.

Dean snorted. The waitress reappeared, set down a basket of wings and three beers, promised the rest in just a minute, vanished. Dean made a note to tip her when they left.

"Wish Sam did," Dean commented dryly, grabbing a bottle and bringing it to his mouth. "Giving me a hard time all day today…" He shook his head, ratcheted his voice up about three and a half octaves. "'Dean, are you sure you should get fourths,' 'Dean, you're 'bout to bust right through that chair,' 'Dean, you're gonna pop and I'm not cleaning up the mess, except I totally will 'cause I'm Miss goddamn Prissy - '"

Dean cut himself off and took a long pull from the beer. The waitress, as promised, came back with more food. Dean waited until she was gone to speak again. "Whatever. Not like that's anything new. He's been super bitchy ever since I broke four hundred."

"He didn't act thrilled when I told him," Castiel agreed. "He asked me again why I keep measuring and weighing you."

"That's Sam for you." Dean lifted a fry gooey with melted cheese to his tongue, then licked grease off his thick fingers. "Gotta have an answer to every question or he'll get a bug up his ass about it."

Castiel said nothing, but Dean could feel his agreement. They both knew by now exactly what Sam was like, bug-and-ass-wise. Dean focused on eating, pulling the plastic baskets with their grease-spotted paper linings closer to him, gathering in the extra beers the waitress showed up to drop off with a smile towards Castiel.

Girls didn't exactly...look at Dean like that anymore. It'd been months, easy, maybe more, since anybody had slipped him their number, or asked him if he wanted to maybe get out of here, or even thrown a heavy-lidded, bit-lip look his way. He knew a big part of it had to do with getting older. He also knew what the rest of it was, but he really didn't care. He had everything he needed, with Castiel around.

Speaking of, Dean finally noticed how he was looking at him. Smile on his face, all fond. Eyes still lit up. Mouth full, Dean realized he'd probably been like that for a while, so he swallowed and let out a little laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing." Castiel shook his head, and Dean nearly went back to the fried potato skins he was working on. A moment later though, Castiel admitted, "You're just so...amazing. In the most literal sense of the word. I've got...such strong feelings for you, Dean."

"Love," Dean patiently supplied. The word was easy to say, with Castiel. "That's love, Cas."

"I know, but." Castiel shook his head again. "Somehow, that just doesn't seem to capture the extent of what I feel."

He reached out and took hold of a mozzarella stick, twirling it in the marinara sauce until it was liberally coated. His fingers looked so long. When he offered it to Dean, ready to drip onto the table, Dean leaned forward with a grin. His belly hung heavy between his legs, edge of the chair pressing into it, but it wasn't so bad he couldn't let Castiel feed him. He was about to scoot on back to where he was when it became obvious Castiel wanted to keep going, careful fingers dipping down for another stick.

Castiel was all about that cutesy shit, which was real unexpected when they first got together, needless to say. Dean had more or less taken it for granted, that they'd have an awkward, antiseptic relationship, chock-full of miscommunications and cultural (species-al?) differences. He'd figured he'd have to teach Castiel how to be human, and he'd been okay with that.

Turned out he'd been thinking of Castiel as he'd been when they first met him. Current Castiel had a good decade of education, a lot of it with its roots in rom-coms and porn, under the belt he still couldn't figure out how to wear just right, and he was putting it to real good use these days.

"I feel," Castiel said, with the tone of somebody beginning something, "so much about you, Dean. All of it good. As I've said."

Dean nodded.

"We've been courting - "

"Dating," Dean corrected through a full mouth.

"For a while now," Castiel continued.

"Year and a half, but who's counting."

"I think it's time - "

"This'd better not be a breakup speech," Dean warned, and Castiel laughed. Dean spread his hands. "Hey, if you want me to stop interrupting, you're gonna have to keep my mouth full!"

Castiel smirked. The bar lighting really did make his eyes glow, irises like blood spatter under a black light. He again waved a waitress over, one with little devil horns on her head this time, to order another round.

Dean couldn't deny it was sort of thrilling, seeing Castiel take him seriously like that.

"I'm not leaving you," Castiel told Dean as he started feeding him again. "I'm never leaving you, Dean. Not by choice. I can make you that promise right now."

Dean felt Castiel's knee against his gut, under the table. Pushing in. He grunted, but kept on eating what Castiel was offering, trying not to think too hard about the irony of an angel feeding him wings. He took mouthfuls of beer between every bite, holding the bottle in his own hand, and whenever Castiel's knee moved, a little thrill raced right to Dean's dick.

"I want to…" Castiel paused. "I'm not really sure how to phrase it, but I guess you'd say I want to take our relationship to the next level."

Dean paused. He was really, really full and, okay, maybe a little drunk. He was big and had a tolerance higher than most skyscrapers, but he'd had a lot of beer tonight. Everything was fuzzy and a little muffled, his brain running thick and slow. It would be pretty nice if Castiel weren't trying to have what Dean suspected might be a really important conversation with him.

Dean mentally flipped through his extremely-limited file of long-term relationship experience. Most of it had come from movies, TV. Probably a lot like Castiel's, actually. After all, his one long-hauler had been Lisa, who was most definitely a special situation. There had been Benny he guessed, but again. Special situation. And then there was Sam, but Sam was...Sam. Didn't really fall into a category that'd be useful right now.

"We...already live together," Dean told Castiel slowly, after some serious thought.

Castiel smiled. He wiped sauce from Dean's bottom lip, let him slurp it off his thumb. Dean wasn't trying to be sexy, just really wanted the hot sauce, but Castiel's eyelids fluttered and wings shivered as he took his thumb deep and wrapped his tongue around it.

"It's not that." Castiel pulled his thumb free with a _pop_ louder than some of Dean's belches.

"...what, you. You wanna get married?"

Dean squinted, trying to identify his own feelings about that one. It would probably be a lot easier if the music weren't loud enough to make the beer vibrate in the bottles. Then he started to wonder why Castiel would even care about marriage. Maybe angels had a hangup about premarital sex. But not only would it be completely stupid for that to exist, let alone for Castiel to still give a shit about it, that particular horse had popped its cherry on the way out of the barn.

Castiel brought Dean off the very weird path his mind had wandered down by laughing. "I don't want to marry you, Dean."

"Oh." Dean wasn't sure why he was a little disappointed by that.

Castiel reached under the table, scratched affectionately at his belly, which had been steadily swelling the entire time he'd been pumping greasy bar food into it. "Angels...do something different. A little similar, I guess. Sort of. We mate. And that _is_ something I want with you, very soon, but there's something else first. Something bigger."

"What could possibly be bigger than angel marriage?" Dean asked, mouth full of beer and jalapeños.

Castiel opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked around before leaning in even closer than he had been, pausing the food train for a second.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private," he suggested. His face suddenly twitched, and Dean heard a shrieky drunken giggle from somewhere behind him. "Someone just grabbed my wing, and I don't think it was an accident."

"Yep." Dean burped, looked down at the table. Empty baskets and bottles far as the eye could see, and he could have sworn that they'd just gotten fresh sets of everything. Twice. "Time to go."

He was still wondering what the hell Castiel wanted to do with him, but the logistics of getting off his stool crushed all other thoughts out of his mind almost right away. He was a lot bigger than he'd been coming into the bar, and he rocked his hips, one hand on his gut to try and keep it steady against the sloshing from inside. His shirt didn't even cover half of it now, let his belly button hang out. He took a second to pull it down, it rode right up again soon as he moved. He gave up.

Dean had a foot planted firmly on the floor and his ass on the edge of his stool when it let out a noise like the wood was in severe distress. Already huffing from scooting himself around, Dean swore under his breath.

"Damn thing's gonna break in half."

"No, it won't."

Castiel was suddenly there, one hand on the chair and the other on Dean, guiding him up. With his help, it was much easier than Dean had expected. Didn't even make his knees hurt. Once he was standing, they made for the exit, the food baby Dean had on board forcing him into a waddle.

Castiel had a wing around Dean as he walked beside him. Sort of, at least. He could only do so much without everybody realizing they weren't costume pieces. Dean thought it was mostly cover for the hand that Castiel had on his plush ass, very liberally feeling him up. Dean was really loving the ballsiness, even if bird-of-paradise feathers were blocking most of the action. And also even if he wasn't totally sure if Castiel understood he was being bold or if it was just his trademark social cluelessness.

Dean hadn't ever figured he'd like being, say...owned by anybody. He'd spent pretty much his entire childhood and a significant portion of his adult life taking care of other people in just about every way possible, after all. It was pretty much his main purpose in life. He hadn't realized just how heavy that purpose weighed on him until Castiel took it from around his neck.

Dean leaned back, let Castiel take some of this new weight he'd picked up, left it up to his belly to lead the way like he'd learned to do when he was this full. He and Castiel had really filled it up in here. Just the effort of moving was milking little puffs and grunts out of him, along with a steady stream of belching. Maybe he should have cooled it earlier in the night. Or the day. But hey, it was Halloween, and it wasn't like he could just stop eating when Castiel kept on putting food in front of him.

For his part, Castiel didn't seem to mind at all. Not even that Dean's gut was out on full display. Honestly, he almost seemed proud, but it was hard as hell to read his expressions even now that he was making some.

"Wow!" A guy in a werewolf costume so far from reality it might as well have been a pug shouted in their general direction as they were coming up on the door. Dean expected another compliment about Castiel's wings, but no, he was gesturing towards Dean's belly with his cup. "Nice Octomom costume, dude - that thing's insane. Almost looks real."

Dean came real close to being offended, but Castiel's hand sinking a little deeper into his ass made him smile as he said, "Yeah, thanks. Hotter'n hell though, lemme tell you."

They'd gotten here early enough to park close to the front, which Dean had been grateful for when they arrived and was even happier about now. He had really, really wanted to take his baby out for a spin. It had been months since he'd even been inside her and he could tell she was getting itchy in the garage. But looking down at his stomach, Dean was glad Castiel had talked him into taking his car.

It was a spacious suburban-mom-looking thing. Dean honestly despised it all the way down to the bottom of his soul, and still couldn't believe Castiel had shelled out real (well, fake) money for it, but he could admit it did have a very roomy back seat. One he'd become intimately acquainted with after all the times he had been too full to fit in behind the dashboard. He climbed in now, Castiel guiding him, Dean grateful for it because between the booze and his belly he would have been guaranteed to go ass over teakettle, and didn't bother with the seatbelt as he settled onto the comfy bench seat with a grunt and a groan.

Dean rubbed his gut with both hands, feeling spoiled and loving it as Castiel climbed into the front.

"Now," Castiel began as he fished the keys from the pocket of his trench coat, "about taking our relationship to the next level."

"Right." Dean nodded. He stifled a burp, not wanting to interrupt whatever Castiel wanted to drop on him. He sort of wished he'd decided to do this when Dean was less full and less drunk and less horny, but it was all right.

For a long time, Castiel didn't say anything. Didn't even put the keys in the ignition. Dean was almost about to ask what it was when Castiel abruptly said, "I want to...reproduce. With you, Dean."

And that knocked Dean sideways harder than beer ever could. It took Dean forever to sort through it, and he wasn't even close to done before he fumbled his way into the first issue. Castiel had started the engine and pulled out of the parking space by then, expertly maneuvering Carzilla.

"Uh...I'm a guy," Dean pointed out. Like Castiel might have forgotten or something.

"That isn't an obstacle," Castiel assured him.

Dean then wondered why in the hell he'd assumed he would be the one carrying the kid when there was an obvious solution. "So, were you thinking you'd, like...swap into a chick, or what?"

Asking that gave him some breathing room, kept him having to wade into his own feelings about the whole "kid" thing. Much less the whole "kid with Castiel" thing, which was an entirely different thing separate from the first thing.

"We'll both remain as we are," Castiel informed him as he left the parking lot. The turn made Dean's stomach slosh.

Dean seized on that because again, no wading. "What exactly d'you mean - " A burp. " - 'more or less?'"

Castiel didn't answer right away. He reached back, found Dean's belly easily with his hand, started rubbing. Dean realized his wings were still out and wondered how he was fitting into the seat with them there. He looked at it, but it sort of gave him a headache. Like what he was seeing couldn't really be happening, or at least shouldn't. So he looked away and focused on the belly rub. A whole bunch of telekinetic touches had joined the hand of Castiel's vessel, working the top and the underneath and all around his belly button, and Dean had no complaints whatsoever as he slouched low and let out a long, content, rolling belch, punctuated at the very end by a smattering of hiccups.

Even if those touches felt kind of...weird. Like there was some invisible anatomy going on he really did not want to think about.

"I've been taking very good care of you," Castiel observed affectionately.

"Uh huh," Dean agreed, drowsiness creeping in fast.

"I've been doing everything for you." One of Castiel's invisible hands or...whatever they were soothed a cramp before it could really get going. "Protecting you. Constructing a nest you clearly enjoy. Right?"

Dean smiled, thinking of his bedroom. With the now much larger TV, the fridge, the huge, cushy bed that had replaced the original Men of Letters-issue frame and memory-foam twin mattress, the couch and armchair. "Uh huh."

"You're very well fed," Castiel went on.

Dean nodded in agreement, second chin and budding third wobbling. A parade of food, of breakfasts in bed and buffet lunches and midnight snacks and baked goods and five-course dinners marched through his head, practically making him hungry despite the oversized load already inside him. He was just wishing he'd gotten something to go from the bar when Castiel, apparently reading his mind, pulled into a drive-through.

He heard Castiel order for him, was honestly too focused on the belly rub that was still going on to hear everything he got, but Castiel sure piled a lot of bags into the back with him. God, did he ever know him well. Dean dug into a cheeseburger and slurped from a soda as Castiel went on.

"If there were any other angels I could show you off to, we would be the pride of Heaven." Castiel's voice was almost dreamy now.

Dean couldn't help another smile at that. He'd known he was pretty since early high school, and even though he was starting to get a little long in the tooth, it was nice having his boyfriend confirm it was still true.

Was it boyfriend, or mate? Nah, Castiel had said they weren't doing that yet, the whole "mate" thing. Dean still wanted to know what it meant, but he was pretty sure they were going over something else at the moment.

He wrenched himself back to what Castiel was saying with a jolt and a small burp, remembering exactly what they were talking about.

"In fact," Castiel said, "you're starting to look like the beginning of an absolutely ideal breeder, Dean. Perfect. Practically an archetype."

Dean frowned. "What...what d'you mean by that, Cas? Exactly."

Castiel turned in his seat to look at him as he drove. Even though Dean knew he technically didn't need to watch the road, it freaked him out, especially with all the other cars and the late trick-or-treaters out and about. Lebanon was a small town and the residents acted like nothing could ever hurt them, even though something like ninety percent of the cases Dean had ever worked had been in places exactly like this.

That set up a little pulse of wrong inside Dean. How long had it been since he'd worked a case?

"You're so obedient," Castiel was explaining happily, smiling at him. "You eat constantly, and so willingly. Growing so fat, carrying most of it in the stomach...and let's not forget that lovely, fertile ass."

He was still touching Dean as he spoke, lovingly.

Dean wasn't really sure whether to be offended or flattered, kind of like when the guy back at the bar had thought he was wearing a costume. Castiel had definitely just called him fat, but he did it in such a nice tone of voice. Dean wondered if maybe he shouldn't stop eating, but he didn't.

God, he was so damn full, and so damn hungry.

"Wait," Dean said through a mouth full of fries and shake. "You've been...what, fattening me up? Did I hear that right?"

The look Castiel gave him was flat-out puzzled. "Of course. Did you not know that?" He frowned. "I'd thought I made it very obvious. I mean, I've been feeding you nonstop, keeping your wardrobe up to size...Sam's certainly picked up on something, but he's not much of an issue, token resistance or not."

That was a lot to process. Maybe even more than the kid thing, and together, they were way too much for Dean to work through while slightly drunk and glutted on heavy, greasy, practically quintessentially American food. It was tempting to just ignore it. Instead, he dug out one piece and tried to focus on it and only it.

"Why the hell've you been making me gain weight, Cas?"

"Helping," Castiel corrected him. Like that was important or something. "It's a vital part of courtship, and you were quite willing." One of Castiel's eyebrows rose. "Do I need to remind you?"

Dean was suddenly very aware of the fact he was still stuffing his rounded face. He forced himself to stop as they pulled into the bunker's garage, but it didn't really matter, with only some fries and half a soda left. He thought about what Castiel had called Sam's teasing and bitching. _Token resistance._

"Sure, whatever," Dean agreed sarcastically. He tried to clear his throat; it turned into yet another belch. Castiel took his hand off him to climb out of the car, and Dean turned to look at him when he opened his door. "Why the fuck did you _help_ me gain weight, then?"

He was pissed. Or at least he knew he should be, which was basically the same thing. But he let Castiel help him out of the car anyway, because pissed didn't mean stupid. It wasn't until they were walking through the kitchen that Dean realized Castiel hadn't even tried to answer his question.

"I'm glad Sam doesn't seem to be on this level," Castiel murmured. "I sort of like it, but I don't really need another lecture on how I've overfed you."

He trailed a hand fondly down the side of Dean's belly, so bloated after the fast food Dean was starting to get seriously worried about doorways. Dean wanted to move away from him, but didn't want to run the risk of banging into something with one of his soft hips.

"Yeah," Dean snapped. "And why're you doing that, exactly?"

"I haven't overfed you."

"Why are you feeding me?" Dean was way too full and tired for this.

There were sacks of candy on the map table when they passed it, bought by an optimistic Sam who thought they somehow might get trick-or-treaters. Lo and behold, their secret underground bunker outside of town somehow hadn't attracted any. Castiel gathered the bags into his arms and much as Dean was craving chocolate, he did not like that.

"So we can have a child together, Dean." The only reason Dean was letting Castiel guide him into his room right now, as he panted with the effort of walking through the all the long-ass hallways somebody had felt that it was absolutely necessary to build, was that he was finding it tough to see things over his stomach, and he wasn't totally clear on where the edges of it were. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this full before. "Hopefully many children."

"Okay, again," Dean started, swallowing a burp before it could cut him off, "why? Weight's got literally nothing to do with that, Cas. Jesus, do a Google search."

Dean knew he ought to be a lot madder than he was. He ought to be absolutely fucking nuclear, angel-proofing the bunker and knocking lamps off tables and breaking mirrors, waking Sam up or bringing him out of whatever nerd-hole he was hiding in. But it seemed like the most he could muster was "moderately irritated" and honestly, that was bothering him a whole hell of a lot more than the forced weight gain thing was.

And he still hadn't fully dealt with the fact Castiel wanted to go full-on picket-fence with him, either.

Castiel seemed to think he was saved from answering right away by Dean's gut clipping the doorway as he waddled into his room. It forced a belch out of Dean, then a loud curse, and a lot of sympathetic belly-rubbing and apologetic shoulder-squeezing out of Castiel.

"Sit down," Castiel instructed, gesturing to Dean's bed. "Let's get you out of those jeans. You're really getting too big for denim, anyway."

"I'll decide that," Dean halfway snapped, but sat down anyway, letting Castiel get off his boots and jeans, his flannel and T-shirt and boxers, dressing him back up with gentle hands in soft plaid pajamas. If Dean was too big for jeans, he was definitely too big for these, freckled flesh puffing like dough through the gaps in the buttons as Castiel did them up. But somehow, Castiel didn't see fit to comment on that.

"It's not even midnight yet," Castiel said placidly. He'd set the bags of candy down on Dean's nightstand, kept glancing over at them. "Would you like to watch a movie?"

"No, I don't wanna watch a damn movie, Cas. I wanna know how you think me being the Human Blob's gonna somehow make it easier for us to have kids," Dean told him, frustrated.

But, again. Not like he really should have been.

He was starting to wonder what Castiel might have done to him other than feeding him ten times his daily recommended calories, and the scariest part was how little he really cared.

Castiel hesitated. His wings, still out, drew in closer to his body, like he was trying to make himself smaller, and he fiddled with the overworked buttons on Dean's pajama top, avoiding eye contact. Dean stared him down, not feeling particularly inclined to make things easy on him as he folded his arms over his chest.

Christ - he had _tits._ Pretty nice ones too, from the feel of them. How long had those been around? He sure had a lot of memories of Castiel playing with them...and also maybe Sam, too. Couldn't believe the little bitch hadn't said a word about these things.

"I haven't...been completely honest with you, Dean," Castiel admitted.

"Oh, this oughta be good."

Dean was still sitting on the bed, having only risen once (and briefly at that) so Castiel could get his bottoms off and then on. Castiel put a hand on Dean's plush chest and pushed him back so that he was laying down, and Dean let him. He blinked, and he was further up the bed, spread out in an ocean of softness that included his own body. The pajamas felt incredible against his skin, even though he was spilling out of them.

Castiel seemed to loom over him, even though Dean knew for a fact he himself was taller than Jimmy Novak. The light was still on in the room, but Castiel's broad shoulders seemed to block it out. And in a second, it was gone, and only the lamp was lit , throwing shadows.

Dean couldn't see Castiel's. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

He wanted to ask Castiel what else he'd lied to him about. Or kept from him, at least, since he didn't want him spouting off again about how obvious it had been. But what came out of Dean's mouth instead was, "Dumb question, but there aren't any...y'know, Leviathan still knocking around in your meatsuit, are there?"

Castiel laughed. A real laugh, not that little halfway-amused chuckle he usually did. "No, no. Of course not. They couldn't wait to get out of me, actually...I mean, you saw the way I exploded."

Dean grimaced at the reminder, despite how mad he was, or should be, at Castiel right now.

"They didn't enjoy being around something like me."

Dean really wanted to believe he meant a creature of light. A force for ultimate good where Leviathan were definitely not that. (Even though he knew angels really weren't, either.) Instead, he got the feeling Castiel meant they didn't like being around him in the same way a coyote didn't like being around, say...a grizzly bear.

Castiel climbed on top of Dean, sinking into the plushness of his thighs, leaning lightly against the ample spread of his stomach. He tore open a bag of candy, began to unwrap the mini chocolate bars instantly and drop them into Dean's mouth. Dean ate. It would be tough to spit them out laying down, and he needed something sweet after all the fries. Not to mention that after everything else he'd eaten tonight, and in the last eighteen months, this was a drop in the bucket.

Dean groaned through a mouthful of chocolate and caramel as he ate though, rubbing at the side of his belly. God, so full.

So hungry.

"Many of the Host can couple very easily with humans," Castiel murmured above him as he dropped in piece after piece of candy, filling Dean even further. "There are no special precautions needed. But for my caste, for it to be safe and non-fatal for the carrier, it can't happen with me in my vessel."

Dean blinked up at him, chewing. A hiccup rumbled up through the nougat in his mouth, and Castiel indulgently patted his belly.

"Which means that to ensure a successful pregnancy, not to mention compatibility with my...unique anatomy," Castiel went on, "there has to be a certain size similarity.

"Unique anatomy?" Dean parroted, voice muffled by candy.

"You'll see what I mean. Eventually." Castiel paused. "Or maybe you won't. I've seen humans' eyes bleed from looking directly at me, but you don't really need to see for us to be together. There won't be any problems, assuming you reach an appropriate size." Castiel made a proud little chirruping noise. "And you're _well_ on your way, Dean."

He hugged Dean's belly, practically snuggling into it, as another bag of candy ripped itself open and began feeding its contents to Dean. Gummi stuff, this time.

"You're so attractive," Castiel murmured. "And getting more so by the day. The way you eat…"

He shook his head, sighing in delight, as a third bag joined the second. Candy marched into Dean and also, somehow, there was more beer, too, pouring into his mouth from above. He had to swallow fast, feeling like a beached whale. The buttons on his pajama top began to creak.

After a couple minutes of this, Dean doubted he could move if he wanted to, with or without Castiel's help. His eyelids sank to half-mast.

He wasn't mad anymore, not even a little. How could he be?

A little fear still remained, though.

He'd burst a couple buttons, sending them pinging off into his darkened room and his belly jiggling to freedom, by the time he got a break. Enough to take a break and gasp out, "How big you need me to get, Cas?"

Castiel smiled, and Dean saw the black spaces between the feathers of his wings as he spread them over him. He blinked, and they were full of a thousand glowing blue eyes each, identical to Castiel's, an entire galaxy. He blinked again, and they were gone.

"I told you how big my true form was, once," Castiel said. "Do you remember?"

Dean wracked his memory. He wasn't sure why he'd retained that, but it floated out anyway, around the newest mouthful of candy and carbs as a shiver set his whole body wobbling.

"The...th-the Chrysler building."

Castiel's smile grew. There seemed to be a lot more to his mouth than Dean remembered.

He personally packed the next handful of candy into Dean.

"You'd better eat up, Dean. You're going to be so perfect for me...and all our children."


End file.
